make for a most memorable visit.
We entered through the doors into the main hall, and Bill launched into descriptions that all docents of Monticello are obliged to give: identifications of various Lewis and Clark artifacts on display throughout the room; of peace medals given to a variety of Indian chieftains; of the famous weekly clock with the cannonball weights on its chains that pass through the floor. But then he drew our attention to some of the statuary in the room.
“Here in the main hall we see busts of Voltaire, Turgot, and Alexander Hamilton," he informed us. I would have expected Voltaire, a French philosophe with whom Jefferson had been ideologically in tune. But Hamilton? The man who had fought Jefferson's vision of America as an agrarian utopia? The man who had argued for the creation of a national bank and federal assumption of state debt following the Revolution? The man who had fought against Jefferson's election as President in 1800? I couldn't help asking Bill whether or not the presence of this marble bust was a subtle joke played on unsuspecting tourists.
“Actually," he answered me, “… we know that Mr. Jefferson did have a bust of Alexander Hamilton here in the main hall. Don't forget, despite their differences, it was Hamilton who had worked with Mr. Jefferson's friend, James Madison, to ensure the ratification of the Constitution by writing several of The Federalist Papers. And it was also Mr. Hamilton who tilted the final vote in the House of Representatives that broke the deadlock between Mr. Jefferson and Aaron Burr." All this was true, but nevertheless this bust represented to me an impressive indication of the extent to which Thomas Jefferson had been willing to forgive an old adversary.
Turgot was another matter. I had known that he, too, was a philosophe and a friend of Voltaire, so the pairing of these two sculptures was at least superficially logical. Also Turgot had admired the political impulse behind the American colonies' decision to separate themselves from Great Britain and create a new government based on republican principles. But Turgot had also vigorously opposed on economic grounds any French participation in aiding the colonies during the Revolutionary War. So why, then, place his image here when there were other Frenchmen, Lafayette comes immediately to mind, who had been more unreservedly supportive of the American cause? I believe Jefferson's decision may have been connected to the nature of Turgot's character.
History remembers Anne-Robert-Jacques Turgot as being dedicated to truth and fair play, and, like most French philosophes and Enlightenment thinkers, he was an ardent believer in the “natural rights" of all men. Furthermore Turgot's personality was frequently described as withdrawn, and he had difficulty expressing himself orally. As a writer, however, he was extremely compelling, and his words often led others to agree with his ideas. All this sounds strikingly similar to Jefferson himself. Perhaps the President had decided that it was only fitting that such a kindred soul as Turgot should be memorialized at Monticello.
After a brief first stop in the plantation office, we moved into the three chambers which comprised the President's private quarters: his library, study, and sitting room. It is here where the spirit of Thomas Jefferson is most conspicuously present. I also think it is important to observe at this point that each of these three rooms are both quite modest in size and are placed in a very close proximity to the public areas of the home, the main entrance, the formal parlor, and even the gardens right outside their windows. Bill assured us that, when Mr. Jefferson's doors were closed, no one was to disturb him, and, I'm sure, no one would have wanted to interrupt his reading, his researches, or his voluminous letter writing. But it should also be equally clear to anyone visiting this home that the President's rooms here at Monticello were very close to the constant activities of plantation life, particularly when one remembers that at the time of his sojourns here between political assignments, he was constantly surrounded by family and friends.
First, we entered the library. It was a marvelous scholar's nook with its reconstituted collection of over six thousand volumes. Of particular note to me was an octagonal table on which could be propped several books at one time (perhaps another example of Jefferson being ahead of his time: the original multi-tasker). Also, Jefferson's bookcases had hinges and handles which would allow them to be closed up and moved rapidly should the necessity arise. No more tragedies like the fire at Shadwell, his family home, that had destroyed his first library, I thought to myself. Here at Monticello, should an emergency occur, the books could be out the door in minutes. A scholar's invention, indeed, and another clear glimpse of the man who would also write, “I cannot live without books."
From the library our group passed into Jefferson's study. This sunny area was filled with scientific instruments and a swivel table (more multi-tasking here) on which, among other inventions, was the polygraph that had enabled Jefferson to make simultaneous copies of any of the nearly 19,000 letters he would write. Nearby, there was a telescope placed close to one of the windows, and next to it sat a portrait bust sculpture of Jefferson in old age. Was this Jefferson's reminder to himself that, as the 17th century poet Andrew Marvel had written, he had “heard Time's winged chariot hurrying near"? Bill would never have been so presumptuous as to have suggested an answer to such a question, but he did note that “Mr. Jefferson was fascinated with the natural world and had catalogued 330 varieties of nuts, vegetables, and fruits, planting many of them in his gardens here." A scholar's study and working laboratory indeed.
Jefferson's sleeping alcove, placed between this study and his sitting room with immediate access to each, featured a clock in the wall over the foot of the bed. “Mr. Jefferson was a self-proclaimed miser with his time," Bill reminded us. “There was always more to know, more to learn about the world, and his time was limited." As if to illustrate this point, Bill now reminded us that the President had died here on July 4, 1826. It had been fifty years to the day since his great Declaration had announced to the world the birth of a new nation, based on the revolutionary principle that a government's power, and even its legitimacy, rested squarely on the consent of its people.
We moved quietly into the sitting room and noted its simplicity as a place to dress for the day. Nothing else was particularly interesting about this room, and it led immediately into the hall before the formal parlor and dining room areas of the house.
The parlor was a gracious space which afforded beautiful views of the back gardens and walkways. Oil painted portraits of the Enlightenment luminaries, Bacon, Newton, and Locke, decorated the walls. The nearby dining areas also featured portrait busts, but here the theme was more strictly American, with images of Franklin, Washington, Lafayette, and John Paul Jones silently surrounding the tables.
The final room on our downstairs tour was directly opposite the plantation office. It was the so-called “Mr. Madison's room," named for its most frequent visitor, and I was fascinated to note that it was constructed in the shape of a perfect octagon. No wonder Jefferson had designed Poplar Forest as he had—the perfection and balance of that geometry had been a very conscious ideal for him.
The various gardens, the out buildings, including even the modest original almost Thoreauvian single room south pavilion where Jefferson and his wife Martha had begun their marriage, were all beautifully preserved and maintained, but for me it was the library and study that carried with them the most lucid insights into Jefferson the man. He had lived at a moment in history when the sum total of human knowledge could be contained in a single library, and Jefferson had made it his goal to learn as much of this accumulated wisdom as he could squeeze into a lifetime. He had also desired to add to this wealth of knowledge—to make his own discoveries and report them to the world. Monticello stands as a symbol of this goal and as irrefutable evidence of this desire.
Following our tour, Bill invited us to walk the grounds and visit the areas of the site for which no docents would be needed. There were informative displays in a number of these locations, many devoted to plantation life and the realities of slavery at Monticello. But it was my final stop at a lovely shop site which overlooked
